# Stories from the briar patch



## Amlique (Sep 9, 2009)

Here's a place to post pipe stories; funny, sad, irritating. I'll start.

My grandfather passed away a few weeks ago (March 31) at the age of 93, one week before turning 94. I was one of his primary caretakers the last 6 months of his life, lifting him from his bed daily for radiation treatments, picking him up when he fell, and at the end changing his diaper. 
It was during a drive to a radiation treatment on a cold December day that he asked about my pipe smoking habit. He wondered how it was smoking and if I had aquired any new pipes. I told him that my selection of antique store reclaimed pipes are smoking well, and that he was welcome to taste some 2009 Christmas Cheer when we got home. His reply was bold, simple and to the point. He says:
"I don't think so. I haven't had a pipe since college (1936-1939)." 
I asked why, because I knew he stopped smoking cigarettes when they went to $.10 a pack, or was it $.05? I don't remember that detail exactly. He was a man of commitment, so either way, the story is the same. He says, "My roomate wanted me to stop so he packed my pipe with chopped up rubber bands. I couldn't get the taste out of my mouth."
I think I would have quit too.


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## Zogg (Aug 31, 2010)

^ that's an awesome story lol


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## CWL (Mar 25, 2010)

Sorry for your loss, but that is a great story to remember him by!


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## owaindav (Mar 7, 2010)

Great story! Great way to remember someone I'm sure was a very important person in your life!


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## Zfog (Oct 16, 2010)

That is a great story, I think that may make me stop smoking too!
Someone must have a cop story, I am always waiting to get pulled over by a cop for smoking my pipe and him thinking it was something other than tobacco!


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## Zogg (Aug 31, 2010)

I was asked by campus security when sitting out in the quad on the Adirondack chairs (i regularly used to smoke cigars there when i lived on campus, and i used to smoke hookah with only shisha all the time), and he asked me what i was smoking and i told him "Purple Cow"

Then pulled a tin of it out of my bag after he was like "What?!"

There's a campo guy who smokes a pipe, so i told him Go ask mark, it's pretty good!

(he was a new guy)


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

I've recounted this a few times online over the past 20 years, but it always seems to vanish into the bit bucket. I worked "on loan" to a civilian agency when i was an officer in the Air Force, and seeing the working habits of real government employees came as something of a shock to my 24 year old system. One of the more interesting characters I encountered was Snortin' Norbert. As a GS-15, he carried the civilian umbladee equivalent of a one star general, making him something of an important fellow. His job was to sign checks for the agency. He had a staff of about 10 secretaries and a personal aid, his own contribution to the effort of paying people taking perhaps 3 or 4 hours a week. The rest of his time he spent walking the hallways chain smoking Kent cigarettes and visiting other offices.

At about 5'7" tall, Norbert did not carry his approximately 400 pounds all that well. With the cigarettes sucking up oxygen, carrying all that weight around was a chore, no doubt, and you could hear his labored breathing echoing many doors down the hallway. His feet took a beating, to be sure, and he wore shoes with rubber ripple soles that helped propel him across the linoleum tiles and squeaked under the load with every heavy step.

His head would pop in the door. "Good morning, Lieutenant!" "Good morning, Mr. Flannigan." He liked me. I always lied and said I had checked out a few of his book recommendations. "Excellent! Carry on, Lieutenant!" And he would light a new cigarette and snort out of the room, happy. Each week brought a new reading list, with Norbert's ratings, for example, _The Chem-Rubber Handbook_ would have a note beside it, something like, "Interesting! Good read!" I found these lists to be reasonable proof of total insanity, but everybody merely made fun of them behind his back and life went on.

He also had a habit of passing on jargon he'd overheard in meetings, jargon highly technical in nature and completely beyond his comprehension, hoping to impress people with his casual brilliance. Sometimes he would repeat these shards of pseudo information to hilarious effect, but people tried not to laugh -- he was, after all, a Big Cheese. I had only that morning discovered that the compiler online could only take code segments of 32KB or less, else it turned into a batch job that could take hours to complete (state of the art in 1968 ). I worked with assembler code, so Norbert had caught me goofing off with a FORTRAN toy when he poked his head in. "Learn anything this morning, Lieutenant?" He had taken it upon himself to help me along in my professional improvement. "If you keep it under 32K, you're in and out in no time at all." "Good for you, Lieutenant!" A while later, my boss came in to ask me what Norbert meant when he told him he had to start keeping it under 32K.

Norbert's prize weirdness, though, lay in his daily use of the phrase, "The color television is the most complex device ever devised by the mind of man!" He could work it into sports talk or discussions about military expenditures with equal alacrity, occasionally with the kicker, "Did you ever hear that? The color television really IS the most complex device ever devised by the mind of man!" You can imagine my delight, while reading the latest yearbook from the Encyclopedia Britannica in the agency library during lunch one day, that I came across a full page photograph of a computer chip. It bore the exciting caption, "This integrated circuit is 1000 times as complex as a color television set." Well then.

I immediately put the page in the copier. After work, I stopped at the dime store, bought a cheap frame and put the copy in it. The next day, I went into work at six, before anybody would be in his office to see me, and put it on his desk, carefully wiping off my fingerprints as if I was cleaning a murder weapon. Later that day, Norbert stuck his head in the door to deliver, "Good morning, Lieutenant! Did you know that an integrated circuit computer chip is 1000 times as complex as a color TV set!?"


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## Sam_Wheat (Oct 7, 2010)

Zfog said:


> ... Someone must have a cop story, I am always waiting to get pulled over by a cop for smoking my pipe and him thinking it was something other than tobacco!


Check this out ...

I am a police officer and when I pull vehicles over I smoke my pipe during my second contact with the driver. They always find it amusing!


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## Xodar (Mar 4, 2011)

Sam_Wheat said:


> Check this out ...
> 
> I am a police officer and when I pull vehicles over I smoke my pipe during my second contact with the driver. They always find it amusing!


 Pure win sir! I just blew hot ash out of my pipe I laughed so hard!:biggrin1:


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## InsidiousTact (Dec 3, 2010)

Sam_Wheat said:


> Check this out ...
> 
> I am a police officer and when I pull vehicles over I smoke my pipe during my second contact with the driver. They always find it amusing!


So if I ever get pulled over by a pipe smoking cop, I'll know it's you? That'd be a crazy way to meet you lol!


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## Sam_Wheat (Oct 7, 2010)

LOL, yeah it's pretty funny. They especially trip out if I'm smoking a churchwarden!


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## User Name (Feb 11, 2011)

I'm pretty sure they're tripping out cause you wrote them a ticket that eats up a week of pay.


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## Evonnida (Jun 1, 2010)

Sam_Wheat said:


> Check this out ...
> 
> I am a police officer and when I pull vehicles over I smoke my pipe during my second contact with the driver. They always find it amusing!


That would be funny! I have been tempted to do it with a cigar but never have...


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## DSturg369 (Apr 6, 2008)

Good stories all!


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

This is a great thread idea. I think I took "story" a bit to the "novella" extreme first time out, so I apologize for that. (It's being taken care of and hopefully will disappear before long...) Anyhow, when people get together smoking their pipes I'm sure an exchange of stories is in order. I'll keep this one a bit shorter and less "literary" since that first one didn't go over very well. 

A friend of mine, back during the Age of Aquarius, worked at a silk screen printing shop. A pipe smoker, he packed his morning pipe at work with 3/4 his regular Kentucky Club and 1/4 Hippie Mix (part KC, part a more expensive combustible) to start the day. Charlie was just starting his morning setup and still working his way down to the standard mixture when another pipe smoker in the shop noticed the room note and wanted to try some. He had the Hippie Mix in a separate KC pouch and accidentally offered the guy some from that. The guy packed his pipe, lit it up, made a face and said, "How can you possibly smoke this!? Guess I won't be buying any Kentucky Club!" and dumped it in the ashtray. Goes to show, different blends for different friends. :hippie:


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## Amlique (Sep 9, 2009)

freestoke said:


> This is a great thread idea. I think I took "story" a bit to the "novella" extreme first time out, so I apologize for that. (It's being taken care of and hopefully will disappear before long...) Anyhow, when people get together smoking their pipes I'm sure an exchange of stories is in order. I'll keep this one a bit shorter and less "literary" since that first one didn't go over very well.
> 
> A friend of mine, back during the Age of Aquarius, worked at a silk screen printing shop. A pipe smoker, he packed his morning pipe at work with 3/4 his regular Kentucky Club and 1/4 Hippie Mix (part KC, part a more expensive combustible) to start the day. Charlie was just starting his morning setup and still working his way down to the standard mixture when another pipe smoker in the shop noticed the room note and wanted to try some. He had the Hippie Mix in a separate KC pouch and accidentally offered the guy some from that. The guy packed his pipe, lit it up, made a face and said, "How can you possibly smoke this!? Guess I won't be buying any Kentucky Club!" and dumped it in the ashtray. Goes to show, different blends for different friends. :hippie:


 Awesome! :clap2:



freestoke said:


> "Good morning, Lieutenant! Did you know that an integrated circuit computer chip is 1000 times as complex as a color TV set!?"


Now that is priceless. I hope you didn't ask for a mod to delete it.


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

Amlique said:


> Awesome! :clap2:
> 
> Now that is priceless. I hope you didn't ask for a mod to delete it.


Thanks, Jon! I was JUST going to hit the "Report" button and get rid of it. As long as somebody liked it, I guess I'll leave it up. Sometimes I get carried away when I start writing and was afraid I'd grossed everybody out. One of the curses of being a fast typist, I guess.


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## User Name (Feb 11, 2011)

I liked your first story too Jim.

However, there wasn't enough action though...killing, bank heists, guns, borderline violent sex scenes...that sort of thing.


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

User Name said:


> I liked your first story too Jim.
> 
> However, there wasn't enough action though...killing, bank heists, guns, borderline violent sex scenes...that sort of thing.


I'm waiting for the statute of limitations to run out before delving into those dark, dark histories.

Anyhow, thanks! I get paranoid sometimes.


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## Zfog (Oct 16, 2010)

I liked your first story too Jim. Definately don't delete it! This thread wa a good idea!


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## B.L. Sims (Jan 14, 2010)

Not much of a story and admittedly a little bittersweet for me but I can remember my grandad smoking a pipe, watching him clean it, and of course all the smells. Thats been forever ago.

He's still with us but a few months ago I went to him and told him about my newest hobby. Ive never seen his eyes light up like that and he talked excitedly about it. I got to talking pipes and collections with him and asked if he still had his. Sadly, he got rid of them when my grandmother decided to stop smoking cigarettes. I commend his solidarity with my grandmothers but I wished he hadnt thrown them out. It really goes to show you that you never know what might mean alot to your kids or grandkids years down the road. 

Its just such a great memory of him when I was younger and wished I had something from that time. Ive been toying with the idea of having him pick one out (hell ill pay for it).

Ive been toying with the idea of bringing a second pipe one visit and seeing if he will have a bowl with me.


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## Commander Quan (May 6, 2003)

You absolutely should. That's an experience you both will remember for the rest of your lives.


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

B.L. Sims said:


> Ive been toying with the idea of bringing a second pipe one visit and seeing if he will have a bowl with me.


And if you know, the tobacco he smoked, too! :tu


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

When I was stationed in Biloxi, at the USAF Communications Electronics Officers School, there was a study hall/lab. One of my fellow officers also smoked pipes and extremely expensive pipes at that. He had his tobacco mailed in from his tobacconist back home, his "go to smoke" having one of the most offensive room notes imaginable, apparently half Latakia and half roadkill. Naturally, I had to order some. We would sit in study hall, perusing tube charts, fiddling with radio equipment and smoking this horrific (but good tasting!) tobacco. 

One day, in came a parade led by a sergeant, followed by an airman first with a clipboard and four airmen who had had their stripes removed for some offense or another (probably drinking at the beach in one of the off limits strip bars), who were carrying a sign, a hammer and some nails. They moved the coke machine, revealing a door which led to a hallway and they nailed the sign to it. They put the coke machine back to cover it and as they formed up to leave, the sergeant looked over and asked, "Sir, is there a FIRE in here!?" We smiled, raised our pipes and they left.

The sign, no longer visible, had read "THIS DOOR BLOCKED", and was clearly meant for the hallway side of the door. My friend pointed his pipe at the coke machine, nodded sagely and said, "Shows what you can do when you put your mind to it."


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## swingerofbirches (Jan 12, 2010)

^^^ LMFAO!!! Great story!
I particularly enjoyed your first story! Absolutely classic!


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## jfdiii (Nov 12, 2010)

Copied from my post in another thread...

I had heard good things about Sugar Barrel and asked local shop to get a tub for me. She couldn't get it and couldn't even find it in "the book". Was bitching to the wife about it...
Yadda,
Yadda,
Yadda,
few weeks later...
I open a box from UPS, in it were 2 tubs of SB and note saying "The enclosed is courtesy of Craig Schwartz- to hold you and your husband over until you are able to get your hands on some!
Regards,
Fran Zemmel
Assistant to Craig Schwartz
President and CEO
John Middleton Co.


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

jfdiii said:


> ...to hold you and your husband over until you are able to get your hands on some!


HA!! Really funny! :tu


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

oops. dupe.


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## Xodar (Mar 4, 2011)

freestoke said:


> When I was stationed in Biloxi, at the USAF Communications Electronics Officers School, there was a study hall/lab. One of my fellow officers also smoked pipes and extremely expensive pipes at that. He had his tobacco mailed in from his tobacconist back home, his "go to smoke" having one of the most offensive room notes imaginable, apparently half Latakia and half roadkill. Naturally, I had to order some. We would sit in study hall, perusing tube charts, fiddling with radio equipment and smoking this horrific (but good tasting!) tobacco.
> 
> One day, in came a parade led by a sergeant, followed by an airman first with a clipboard and four airmen who had had their stripes removed for some offense or another (probably drinking at the beach in one of the off limits strip bars), who were carrying a sign, a hammer and some nails. They moved the coke machine, revealing a door which led to a hallway and they nailed the sign to it. They put the coke machine back to cover it and as they formed up to leave, the sergeant looked over and asked, "Sir, is there a FIRE in here!?" We smiled, raised our pipes and they left.
> 
> The sign, no longer visible, had read "THIS DOOR BLOCKED", and was clearly meant for the hallway side of the door. My friend pointed his pipe at the coke machine, nodded sagely and said, "Shows what you can do when you put your mind to it."


Hahahaha, my co-workers are staring at me I am laughing so hard. Great story Jim, and great visual, raising your pipes at them as they left. ound:


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

Xodar said:


> Hahahaha, my co-workers are staring at me I am laughing so hard. Great story Jim, and great visual, raising your pipes at them as they left. ound:


Glad you liked it, John. :mrgreen: That guy was a character, BTW. Couldn't remember his name for the life of me, though. I had some pretty nice pipes back then, a GBD, Sasieni, Dunhill, Comoy's, BBB, and a fantastic looking freehand that I can't remember the make of. They looked like basket pipes compared to the beauties he had.


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## B.L. Sims (Jan 14, 2010)

freestoke said:


> And if you know, the tobacco he smoked, too! :tu


Ive had him try to remember but it always escapes him. I may try and get some details about the tin/can/pouch and have you guys help me out.


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

B.L. Sims said:


> Ive had him try to remember but it always escapes him. I may try and get some details about the tin/can/pouch and have you guys help me out.


I try recognition rather than recall. Name some and see if he recognizes them if you haven't already. Edgeworth, Prince Albert, Walnut, Dunhill, and so forth.


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

Just thought of another one from Texas, back about 1978 before my pipes were stolen.

I threw darts every night when I lived in Dallas and was on two league teams. One of my teams had a real cowboy as a thrower, you know, the kind that actually rides horses and herds cattle for a living. He was everything you want in a cowboy, skinny and hard, leathery face and a big hat that he never took off and hands that looked like he was wearing gloves. At the time, big Stetsons with a giant flowery feathery thing in the front were all the rage. I had carried my Sasieni FourDot prince into the bar because it wasn't done yet from the ride down town and I hate to abandon a good bowl. (I smoked cigarettes when I was throwing darts -- a lot of cigarettes.)

"Hi, Jim. Didn't know you smoked a pipe!" While I finished it and started on the beer, the conversation turned to these dude hats everybody had on. (His hat had sweat stains on the band, no feathers.) He commented that back when, "If a guy walked into a bar wearing something like that we'd have probably beat the shit out him." I laughed. He added, "And if he'd have been smoking a fancy pipe like that he wouldn't have left the bar alive."


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## Xodar (Mar 4, 2011)

:laugh:

Hehe, good thing you weren't wearing a dude hat _and_ smoking the fancy pipe...

This is a great thread, finding the pipe stories entertaining as can be.


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## freestoke (Feb 13, 2011)

I spent only three years in the military, '67-70, but some of the oddest things happened in that short span. One involved a visit to Bethesda Naval Hospital, to see about a sore I had in my mouth. I could easily run in there, since it was close to Georgetown, where I did my drinking, an activity de rigueur for ayoung AF Officer. I sat smoking my pipe in the hallway, when the ENT doctor arrived, also smoking a nice what turned out to be a Comoy's billiard. As he walked by he waved me to follow him. I think he was returning from a late or long lunch, since he smelled a like beer.

"I see you smoke a pipe, Lieutenant. A Four Dot. Nice pipes." People knew about pipes, even back then. "This is a Comoy's. That smells like Flying Dutchman! How can you smoke that!?" I was suddenly off guard.

"So what's the problem, Lieutenant?"

"It's this sore on my left cheek. It's really starting to bother me and I'm worried about it. Had it for over a week now."

He didn't even take the pipe out of his mouth, happy as a clam, "Open up." With a wooden tongue depresser pushing around, he aimed the light, looking through some sort of mounted magnifying glass. Ten seconds, tops.

"Yeah. Think that's just a viral abscess of some sort." His pipe was out, so he glided over in his roller chair, banged his pipe on a cork banger ashtray, reached for his pouch and started refilling. Then he stopped, held up the pouch for second, "Baby's Bottom," he said, as if to suggest that I needed to move up to something decent to smoke, as if to finish off with, "...*KID*!!" But he was very cheerful about it.

"So what do we do about it? I smoke a lot of Balkan Sobranie, though. I just smoke the Flying Dutchman because it smells good."

"Ah! Balkan Sobranie! Good for you, Lieutenant!" I think he was tipsy. "Nothing we can do about a viral abscess. It'll either go away or it'll eat it's way through the side of your face, work its way into to your brain and kill you." He laughed. "It'll go away. Rinse with warm salt water a couple of times a day and before you go to bed. Don't worry about it. In the meantime, we can stop the pain a little." He pivoted on his chair, got up and pulled the darkest of the four blue liter bottles of cocaine solution, marked 5%, 10%, 15%, 20%, in deepening orders of blue, down from the shelve, grabbed some forceps, grabbed a wad of cotton that would barely fit in my mouth, dipped it in the solution, shoved it into my mouth dripping it down my chip and sloshing some up my nose. My mouth was full of the solution, I had to swallow.

Wheeling back around to the bench, he put away the solution, grabbed a box of matches and spun again toward me, simultaneously striking a match and lighting his pipe. He shook out the match and threw it in the direction of the cork knocker ashtray, at which point I saw a number of earlier misses. "That'll give you a break from the pain, I think" he said, puffing on the pipe and tamping it lightly with his index finger. "If it doesn't go away, come on back. Good afternoon, Lieutenant. Glad you don't really smoke Flying Dutchman," laughed and gave me a pat on the back. I was numb from the waist up driving on down to Georgetown. My kind of doctor.


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